


The art gallery

by flowersofelsa



Category: la casa de papel
Genre: M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersofelsa/pseuds/flowersofelsa
Summary: Andrés de Fonollosa is the owner of a art gallery in Paris. Martín Berrote, a argentinian engineer, enters in is shop by pure chance.And they will both learn that love at first sight exists.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote/Original Female Character(s), berlermo - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	The art gallery

Since his primary childhood, Andrés has always been in love with art. It is the only way he has found to express his feelings. Art helps him to feels love, joy, sadness. Painting and sculptures are the only things to which he let his true self exposed. Even if Andrés is now in is forties, he never said “I love you” to someone. Not even to his parents, or to his little brother, Sergio, or to one of the five women he married. The fact is that Andrés is also extremely ill at ease with shows of affection. 

After running the world for fifteen years as a consultant in Renaissance art, Andrés decide to settle five year ago in Paris and open his own art gallery. He found a little gem in the heart of the Marais, a fancy neighborhood of the French capital. Andrés decided to name it “La Galerie Berlin” in reference to Berlin, a city full of artists and in which is sell his first drawing. 

In a lovely spring afternoon, a green-eyed man opened the door and cried out in a broken French “ Bonjour !”. A big smile was now invading Andrés’ face. The man was slightly younger than him and seemed very dynamic. He also immediately recognized his Argentinian accent. 

“ Buenas Tardes amigo !” Andrés said.

« I’m Martin Berrote. I am an Argentinian engineer sent to Paris for a one-year mission. I lost myself in the neighborhood and then I saw your store front. Could you help me to select some painting, I really need to garnish my apartment! “

Martin was a very talkative person. During his speech, he looked Andrés straight in the eyes with his two-sapphire iris. His accent was also very melodious, and you can hear Italian intonations. 

It needed some seconds for Andrés to come back to his senses. He coughed in his fist before answering to Martin.

“Nice to meet you Martin. I’m Andrés De Fonollosa. I’m a Spanish art expert, established for five years in Paris…” without stopping talking, Andrés moved with a rare elegance between the multiples sculptures, glass boxes and showed to Martin every painting. 

Even if to them it seemed like only ten minutes have passed, the two men talked about lives for two hours straight. Martin’s childhood in Buenos Aires, the violence of his father, Andrés’ travels, and his imperishable memory of Argentine, his history of art studies. They found a lot of common in each other. 

After this long discussion, Martin choose three paintings all of them were abstract art. Vivid colors. Anarchic paintbrushes. It was a pretty realistic representation of his mindset and his thoughts. As nature gifted him with a great intelligence, it was also born with a brain fill with ideas and unable to rest for more than thirty seconds.  
“Are you free tonight?” Martin asked.

“Hmm. I just divorced from my fifth wife some weeks ago and I have only a cat at home. So, I guess that I have nothing planned. Why? “

“Would you do me the favor to take a drink? Some friends told me that The Marais was full of bars and places to go out.”

At this moment, Andrés was not able yet to put words on what he was feeling but he was mesmerized by this Argentinian guy. It was a magnetic force, something that no one could see. It was unusual, unique, for Andrés to be this confused. 

“Of course. Just give five minutes to close the gallery. Let me store your paintings there and I will help you later to grab them to your place.”

A soft wind was now diving into the streets of Paris. The two men were giggling in their way to a little bar. It was crowdy and filled with pride flags and rainbow crosswalks. Even if it was a fancy neighborhood, Andrés preferred the chic of Saint-Germain-Des-Près. They both sat inside a little pub and ordered tapas with a pricy bottle of wine that Andrés recommended to Martin. If he had had the choice Martin would have only ordered a regular beer but he could not disappoint his new friend. They continued to talk about themselves, the highs and downs of each other lives. Martin confess to Andrés how disastrous and toxic was his last relationship with a Sicilian guy. Andrés reviewed his five weddings, all of them sold by a divorce. He admitted to Martin that he really loved women but in the end that he never understood them. He covered them with flowers, luxurious hotels, and jewelries but it seemed that it was not enough for them. 

At several moments, they both stopped talking and stare each other in the eyes. But at no time, it became weird. They both needed calm. In these silences, both of them could red the other thoughts. It’s been less than half a day since they met but is seemed like they have known each other for years. Martin understood Andrés. Andrés understood Martin. They were born in different continents, shared a different culture but they shared the same point of view on most of subjects. For the first time in his life, Andrés opened up to someone, naturally. It was like a flood barrier had been broke. 

Shortly after midnight Martin asked Andrés if he was not too tired to go back to his gallery and pick up home the paintings. Martin’s flat was 2 miles away from there. As the engineer he was, Martin had a secret plan in mind.  
During the way back to the gallery and his place, Martin became quite touchy with Andrés. He touched his arm and then he started to put a hand on his back. Andrés didn’t objected and didn’t moved either. He thought that the feeling was pleasant and showed a knowing smile.  
After climbing the four floors which separate the street from Martin’s place, the little Argentinian offered to Andrés a tour. Immediately, Andrés argued with Martin about which walls the paintings should be hang on. At the end, they decided that two of them would be perfect in the hall. The largest one will take its place upon Martin’s bed. 

Martin was leaning to the framing of the bedroom’s door staring at Andrés four feet away. Now, they both had sleepy eyes. Today had been intense but none of them have the intention to end it now. 

Even though Martin was not a shy person, his arms were full of goosebumps. On top of that, the little butterfly he started to feel sooner did not stopped to grow in his stomach. In fact, thousands of butterflies were now flying in his body. Before, Martin never believe in love at first sight. He was a bit misogynistic and, in his mind, it was for girls and for fairy tales. What he did not know yet is that the supposedly straight men, five times married to women, was also devoured with strange butterflies. And he that he was submerged by the same sensation even if he tries his best to burry it. In any way, Andrés thought that he was uncapable to have feeling for someone. To genuinely love someone. 

Martin inhaled a big bowl of air and made a step. He looked Andrés straight in the eyes, smiling. 

“Andrés. I wanted to thank you for this wonderful evening. Since I left my country, I felt very alone. But then, I met you and your crazy passion for art and beauty. I never get along so fast and so well with someone.”

“ I have to admit that it’s a first time for me too. Sorry if I bothered you with all my problems and everything. I never felt that connected with a total stranger. But I find in you someone who listens to me and who understand my point of view on life. “. Andrés said with glazed eyes. This, was a first time for him too. He never cried in front of someone. Maybe he even never cried since is childhood. 

“ Cariño, you didn’t bothered me.”

Martin made a new step towards Andrés. Then, another one. The distance was now quite close between them. Martin gently wipe Andrés eyes with a comforting “shhh”. His hands were now wandering on Andrés’s cheeks and he brushed the back of his hair. For sure, since the moment he saw Andrés when he first entered in the gallery, Martin thought that Andrés was a very charming and seducing men. Now, he was staring at him and the distance between them was only of twenty centimeters. This close, with the moonlight transpiercing the curtains, Andrés was even more sexy and Martin craving to taste how soft was his lips. 

In order to finally break the distance, Martin slowly approach his nose to Andrés’. Andrés raise a eyebrow at first, surprised by Martin boldness but then, they begun to rub each other nose. It was pure, it was soft, it was new. Time was frozen around them. Andrés closed his eyes; he was one hundred percent confident in Martin. He puts his hands on Martin’s hips and pull him closer to break the distance once and for all. 

Shortly after, Martin gently kiss Andrés lips. As he imagined they were beautifully soft. Andrés responded to the kiss and their lips began to move synchronically and it became less and less innocent. No words were needed and like they both already learnt today, they didn’t had to speak to understand each other.

“There is no accidental meeting between soulmates”

THE END.


End file.
